On Edge
by JUSTxAxFRIENDLYxPSYCHO
Summary: Beyond the Veil lies a world that neither Harry nor Remus could have expected, but one that will change their lives, nonetheless.
1. Chapter 1

**On Edge**

 **Disclaimer:** Any and all recognizable characters, locations, spells, etc belong to their respective owners, publishers, producers, etc. Scenario belongs to me, but otherwise I claim no ownership

Additional disclaimer: I am publishing this Thing that I've been writing for the while under the influence of alcohol, so I have no idea if it is fit to see the light of day, or just a bit of self-indulgent fluff. Either way, I hope you have fun reading it.

.. .. ..

 **The Bright Side of Death**

The all-encompassing green rippled, like a ribbon of smoke in the breeze, like a snake shedding skin, as it punctured skin, ripped through muscle and shattered bone. Swirling, writhing, pulsing, the green invaded his senses, drowning out his desperate cries of "Sirius" and "save me" as he was torn to pieces and remade, over and over, by It—whatever It was—glittering like thousands of dancing fireflies, and arctic rapids, and the hazy mist of spell-fire. Eyes, bright as emeralds, watched from a body that both Was and Was Not as he whirled through a vortex of glorious, tumultuous green.

Eyes that Were and Weren't blinked against the hot sting of the sentient light, pulsing and thick, as it slid across his skin, up his neck and across his face, sinking into flesh, slithering in his ears and eyes, rushing down his spasming throat. He struggled, his heart pounding, as he fought against the smothering, drowning green. He tried to cry out, his tongue heavy and wet with the thick, burning light-that-wasn't-light.

Tears like acid burned toxic green streaks down his face. His chest heaved, struggling against sobs as he struggled for air.

"...arry?"

He blinked, blind to anything but brilliant green, his body straining weakly to follow that familiar voice.

"Ha...y?"

He knew that name, and he knew that voice, but his mind struggled to think of anything but the pulse of his blood boiling his veins.

"Har..y." Lips brushed his forehead, soft, like the caress of butterfly wings...so very fragile, no more than the tickle of a light breeze. Slowly, soothing cold spread down his face and neck, trailing down limp limbs and lazy digits, sinking into his skin. A gasp wrenched past his clogged throat, and eyes opened for the first time in days, weeks, eons.

He blinked, squinting as his vision swam, slowly dancing and swirling together to form the familiar face looming above him, staring down at him with green eyes shot through with electric blue, and poisonous yellow. "Remus..."

The man smiled, his strange eyes glowing in his pale, haggard face, tawny hair hanging in a wet mess down sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. He seemed to wilt under Harry's stare. He started, staring as Remus' head fell forward to rest against his. "Oh, thank God, kiddo."

"Moony, what..?"

"You wouldn't wake...I couldn't wake you. I thought..." Harry hugged Remus to him, arms trembling in fatigue, his hand idly patting a trembling back.

"I'm alright...sore as fuck, but alright."

Harry blinked lazily, blearily taking in the crumbling edifice of a once-magnificent church. Only three of the beautifully carved stone walls remained, as well as a small portion of the peaked roof. Rubble littered the dusty wooden panels of the floor, falling just short of the vibrant patch of grass growing through the cracked slats. He shifted his aching back, lazily tangling his fingers into the fresh, young grass, so soothing against his sensitive skin. Harry groaned as he slowly turned his neck to take in the stretch of grass around him. Vibrant daylilies littered the unruly thatch of green, their petals unfurled delicately towards the golden sunlight streaming in through the collapsed roof and ruined wall.

"Where..?"

A sigh. Harry turned to look at Remus' lost expression, feeling a real pang of grief and panic at his wan, destroyed visage. "I...don't know. Nothing looks familiar.""Nothing?"

Remus shrugged. "I took a look around when I first got here...we're not in London, that I can tell, but...I couldn't tell you where we are, either. Not a damn person in sight, and my wand isn't working, so I couldn't even cast a location charm if I wanted to."

Hopelessness settled heavily in Harry's stomach, and he swallowed against a rush of panicked tears. Not in London, but then...where..?

Realization was like a slap in the face, nearly painful in its abruptness. The Veil.

" _Sirius, NO!" Harry watched, his heart stuttering in his chest, as Sirius fell through the fluttering gray curtain of the stone archway. The curtain seemed to ripple in a phantom wind, tendrils of dazzling green snaking from behind the curtain before vanishing like smoke._

 _His knees collapsed beneath him, and he was only vaguely aware of Remus crying out in shock as he scooted across the floor and up the dais, reaching for the curtain. An aged hand fisting in his torn sweatshirt just as trembling fingers brushed the cool, ephemeral gray curtain._

 _In a blaze of fire, he was swept into the Green, Remus dragged along behind him...and then came the pain..._

Wherever they were, it was likely someplace that existed beyond the Veil. Harry doubted whether it was Heaven or Hell, as his aching back sure as shite told him he wasn't dead. But, still...if he and Remus were beyond the Veil, and alive, then that meant...Sirius.

Somewhere, wherever the hell they were, Sirius was alive, and just as lost as they were. Aching body aside, he'd be damned if he left his godfather to fend for himself. Harry groaned, batting away Remus' fluttering hands as he rolled slowly onto his side. His lungs squeezed, feeling like they were going to collapse. He tried not to panic, but felt very real fear at the thought that he might be too hurt to stand.

 _Everything will be...alright._

A hand, small and soft, brushed his sweat matted hair away from his face, and Harry blinked, startled. Green eyes smiled down at him from a kind face, dark curls pulled back in a bow of brilliant pink. Harry stared, confused, as the girl beamed at him, patting his head kindly before sitting back on her heels. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she was gone.

Harry sighed. Oh, Christ. The last thing he needed was a sudden onset of insanity. Remus looked a second away from nervous collapse, as it was. He'd probably lose it if Harry, well, lost it. Still, whether he was loony or not, Harry was not going to lie here while Sirius was out there, possibly hurt, with no way of knowing he wasn't completely, utterly alone, without a friend or access to magic.

Slowly, Harry rolled to his stomach, pushing with wobbling arms til he slumped back on his heels. There was a generous patch of crushed grass and crumpled flowers where he had been laying. He frowned. Something about the sight of those crimped stems was disturbing, and he brushed his fingers across them in apology. He watched, startled, as the flowers seemed to lean into his touch, stems straightening and petals opening wider as his fingers brushed across leaf and bud.

Huh. That was...bizarre. Well, more bizarre than usual, for him.

Harry turned to Remus, studying his pale face as he stared blankly into the distance. Even his unusually glowing eyes seemed glassy with fatigue. Christ. Neither of them were in the right shape for what he had in mind, but it was something that needed to be done. "Remus..."

Glowing eyes blinked, locking on his face. Harry stuttered, caught off guard, again. Merlin, but he was not used to that, yet. He wasn't sure there was any getting used to seeing his professor with eyes that glowed like lanterns. Harry wondered if that Green...whatever had done that to him, and considered finding a shiny surface to check his own eyes the next chance he got.

"Uh...the-the Veil. I was thinking...Sirius. Do you think he could be out there, somewhere? I mean, he wasn't dead when he fell through, right?"

Remus blinked, looking unusually blank, before a wide, hopeful grin split his face. Honestly, Harry had heard the cliché about a smile making someone look ten, fifteen, twenty years younger, but he had always thought it was a crock of shite. His eyes slid over Remus' face, taking in the happy glow, the rosy cheeks, the sparkling eyes. Looks like he'd been wrong in this case, because the years seemed to fall away with that hopeful smile. Harry forced a smile of his own, refusing to kill Remus' joy with his worries over the state they'd find Sirius in, if they found him at all.

Harry tried not to glower as Remus sprung to his feet easily. He sat back on his heels, feeling like an achy old man, trying to get his limbs to move. If he was surprised when strong hands pulled him to his feet, he wouldn't say...and he most certainly did not squeal like a startled little girl as he went flying up, bumping into a solid chest. Harry sniffed, ignoring Remus' happy chortle, and brushed off his clothes before heading toward the ruined wall on unsteady feet. Really, the nerve of some people. It wasn't THAT funny.

…

If Harry didn't know any better, and he honestly didn't, he'd assume a bomb had been dropped over the church. Broken scaffolding, rust clinging to the rungs like ivy, towered like skyscrapers. Chunks of metal, and wiring, and stone littered the ground all around the ruined church. Crushed trucks gathered dust, and the only sound from the abandoned wasteland was the occasional sound of rock and plaster from the crumbling city, clattering to the ground.

"Remus, what?" Harry was speechless. He'd seen pictures of the London Blitz in primary, but seeing a small, faded photo of the ruined metropolis, and walking amongst the rubble of a destroyed city were two very different experiences. With a photo, all you had was a shiny, laminate moment in time. A photo could not choke you with the smell of rust, and broken sewage pipes, and burned wire, and rock dust. It could not impress upon you the unnerving silence and stillness of a city in ruin. It could not suffocate you with the feeling of terrible, terrible loneliness.

Remus' voice trembled, and Harry clutched his arm in sympathy. "As far as I can tell, this part of the city is pretty much gone. I didn't want to leave you too long, so I didn't really explore too much."

Harry stared around him, squinting through the stinking fog and dust, looking for something...anything...that'd tell him where they were. Fallen street signs were a mass of dust and strange symbols that meant absolutely nothing to him. Honestly, he hadn't expected to be able to magically speak whatever language they spoke here, but he had hoped.

His stomach flipped with nerves and it took every bit of stubborn pride he had left not to just drop to the ground. Remus held him steady, thankfully too busy getting his bearings to pay Harry's momentary fit of hopelessness any mind. He sighed, turning in a slow circle as he tagged along after Remus, searching for any sign of life amongst the ruin...he'd prefer Sirius, but even a stranger would be welcome, at this point.

"Look, we can't just stay here...we'll need food and water soon."

Harry glanced at Remus out of the corner of his eye, his gaze jerking away in surprise when he nearly broke his ankle tripping over a tangle of scaffolding blocking the road. "So, what do we do? Look for Sirius, or try to find our way out of here, and come back later?"

"I'm tempted to just stay and have a look for Sirius, but...damn it, Harry, I'm old. I need a better bed than a patch of grass."

He snorted. "I'd forgotten how feeble you old folk are. Do you need me to find you a cane?"

"Nobody likes a smart-arse, Harry."

Slowly, they made their way toward the skeleton of a massive wall in the distance. Both had agreed that the tower in the center of the wreckage looked too unstable and too abandoned to be worth searching. Harry huffed, almost embarrassed how tired he still was, his head bobbing in exhaustion as he stumbled through the wrecked streets, blinking against the growing dark. Just...a little bit further. Twenty minutes...an hour...more, and he could sit down, close his eyes, _rest_.

Harry was dead on his feet, his eyes fluttering as he lost the battle against sleep. His head bobbed forward, resting against Remus' sturdy shoulder. He gripped the man's arm tighter, tensing his muscles to keep his legs from giving out for real, this time.

Then, the first twinkle of street lights, followed by the growing rumble of cars, and the familiar stench of car exhaust. He blinked, taking in the buildings and office blocks, and streetlights, and paved roads. This city, built on the skeleton of the old, was like the grass in that church...pushing through the cracks, reaching towards light, towards life.

God, but that was a load of sentimental tripe. Harry was glad he was too tired to talk, or he was certain he would have wanted to bury his head in the ground. He'd put it down to immense relief, and hope his unexpected turn towards romanticism wasn't permanent. He didn't think he could face himself if he turned into one of those Maudlin Poet types that Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were always swooning and cooing over.

Harry was grateful for the break as Remus lead him to a wobbly bench, and they sat. His muscles burned, spasming from exhaustion and whatever the hell his time in the Green Gunk had done to him. He blinked, hard, forcing back the massive yawn building in his chest.

"So. Uh...what now?" Remus blinked, looking just as dazed as he did, his glowing eyes bleary as he looked around. Huh. Well, that wasn't too reassuring, but Harry couldn't blame Remus for just wanting to get out of the ruined city and to civilization. It wasn't as if he had thought about what they'd do once they got here, either.

"Find someplace to eat, I guess."

"...so, you have money on you, then?"

Remus patted at his pockets, frowning as his stomach took that as its cue to voice its discontent. Harry's stomach joined in the chorus. "No. You?"

Harry didn't bother checking. He hadn't bothered to take money with him on his failed rescue mission to the Ministry of Magic. He shook his head.

Remus sighed, scrubbing his face, and Harry nearly felt guilty for bringing it up. He would have felt like a berk for dining and dashing, but would have done it, had he had the energy. Now, he wasn't too sure he could stay awake through the dining part, let alone be up for any dashing.

"I suppose we could find someplace to sleep for tonight, and worry about it tomorrow..." Harry nodded, his stomach churning in guilt at the disappointed look on Remus' face. Honestly, he didn't want Remus to starve on his account, but he didn't think he'd be able to make a get away had they been forced to steal food.

Slowly, he forced himself to his feet, gripping the back of the bench as his knees trembled. Remus tugged him close, winding a sturdy arm around his back to brace them as they stumbled down the street, their tired eyes trying to make any sort of sense of the alien writing on the street signs. Harry winced, his stumble becoming a limp the further they walked. His knuckles bulged, his hands grasping tightly onto Remus' tattered pull-over, but it wasn't enough. Harry felt his knees go, and knew he wouldn't be able to take another step.

The alley was claustrophobic, lined by iron stairwells, leading up to barred apartment windows, on either side. The smell of trash hung in the air, oozing from the overflowing dumpsters, grotty with grease, and human waste, and any number of foul smelling crap. Harry gagged, turning his head away from the smell. He watched Remus take stock of their surroundings with a grimace before plopping down on the greasy pavement to join him, pulling him tight to his side to keep them both warm.

"'M sorry, Remus."

"It's fine, kiddo. My back can handle the ground for another night." His laugh was weak, and Harry swallowed against the writhing ball of guilt that settled in his stomach. He bit his lip and cuddled closer, doing his best to make sure the man didn't freeze on his account.

The wall was sticky, and Harry cringed as he imagined the gloppy, sticky mess he must be, after everything. He would do almost anything for warm water, and lots and lots of soap, but knew enough to know it wasn't going to happen tonight. His shoulders twitched against unforgiving stone, and he slouched down further, his face tucking into Remus' neck. Slowly, his breathing fell into sync with the older man's, and he drifted off, soothed by the familiar scent of his former professor.

.. .. ..

Aaaand, that's it for chapter one. Intrigued? Confused? Both? Stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**On Edge**

 **Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

 **.. .. ..**

 **A Little Slice of Heaven**

 _He looks so sweet, like a puppy._

 _I think he kinda looks like me._

 _...Like I said, a puppy._

 _Whaaaat? Not you, too._

A bright, sweet laugh brushed against his senses even before he noticed the light shining down on his face. He blinked, taking in the blurry form of that girl from before, the one with a pink bow...but, this time, there was a dark haired man with her, all dimples and bright eyes, who looked like a brick shit house standing next to the delicate woman.

Oh, fuck, really? This again? Couldn't his mental collapse wait until AFTER he found breakfast?

She beamed at him, her green eyes sparkling, and slowly turned to point down the alleyway. Harry sat up slowly, leaning forward to see where she was pointing. The far end of the alley seemed to glow with early morning light, light that struggled to penetrate the dank shadows of the cramped, dirty alley. The gap between the buildings seemed to open up onto a wide side street, across which sat a squat building with an enormous motorcycle parked out front. A neon sign flickered, flashing a jumble of that same alien alphabet, before the glow was abruptly cut off.

That was...well, it was just bloody perfect, wasn't it?

"You know I can't bloody read that, don't you?" Harry bit back a huff as the girl just smiled. Her arm dropped and she stepped back into the dark man's embrace. They waved and vanished with a blink. Fucking brilliant. So, either he could follow the advice of what was probably a hallucination, or he could spend another day tripping around the city with Remus, and probably spend another night in the piss-and-sewage scented alleys.

Fuck it. What choice did he really have? It was time to embrace his insanity.

Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet, smirking as Remus woke himself with a wheezing snuffle. He turned away, biting his lip, as the man staggered to his feet, grumbling tiredly about 'cheeky-ass brats thinking they were so bloody hilarious.' Slowly, Harry shuffled and tripped his way down the alley, only vaguely aware of the indignant squawk Remus let out as he hurried to catch up, the sound of his sleep-slurred cursing in sync with the clatter of garbage cans toppling over.

The road was empty when they passed through the end of the ridiculously long alleyway, but Harry still hesitated. If this place was anything at all like London, he'd be stupid not to double check before trying to cross. He'd heard far too many horror stories of residents and pedestrians alike being taken out by a speeding bus, weaving through traffic and running lights. Harry gripped Remus' sleeve, tugging him back onto the curb absently. His ears strained, listening for the rumble of car engines, then dashed across when it was clear nobody would come mowing down the road in the 30 seconds it would take to make it across.

Though he'd slept well enough, he was hungry and his grotty clothes felt heavy, so it was a less than impressive sprint, but effective enough, considering he'd lived to talk about it. Harry waited for Remus to catch up before they slowly pushed at the glass doors, stepping inside the bar...Inn...whatever the hell it was. Harry jumped, stumbling back in time to miss being plowed down by two little brunette hellions, a boy and a girl, as they dashed out the door, yelling back at him in garbled gibberish that could have been apologies, or a string of swears, for all he knew.

Harry's gaze flickered around the bar as he steadied himself against the glass doors. Flickering lights cast a low, yellow haze over the surprisingly spacious room. Dusty wooden floors were littered with tight clusters of empty tables and rickety chairs. Pictures hanged haphazardly on the wall, save for a hefty chunk of space taken over by a dusty jukebox and pinball machine. Near the back wall, a stairwell lead up to whatever the hell they had upstairs, and there was a long stretch of bar, manned by a pretty brunette, with a handful of stools, only a few of which were occupied.

The occupants in question, two men in rumpled suits, looked nearly as out of place as he knew he and Remus did. Their suits, minus the wrinkles, screamed Corporate Lackey. Harry was sure their cufflinks alone could pay for a week of meals, plus room and board for he and Remus. For all this, they seemed relaxed to the point of apathy.

The man on the right, a gangly bloke with red hair a rock star would have envied, was practically sleeping on the bar top. The other man, bald, black and more solidly built, was a little more poised, but only barely so. He seemed to be holding himself back from slouching by sheer force of will. The brunette bartender, in comparison, seemed almost painfully perky. A definite morning person, if ever he saw one. Harry shuddered. He was far too exhausted to appreciate that sort of energy, no matter what package it came in.

The Dreaded Morning Person in question glanced up at the chime of the door, beaming at them for a moment before she took in their sorry state of dress. Harry blinked, surprised, as she dropped her rag and hopped over the bar top like a seasoned gymnast. Really, who did that? He jumped, startled, as she seemed to just materialize right in front of him. He normally wasn't quite this jumpy, but she'd moved quicker than he expected a bartender to be able to. Then again, if he looked like that, and had to deal with the occasional drunken ass-hat, he would probably learn how to move quickly, too.

" _What happened, do you need some help? Rude! Reno!_ "

Harry blinked, meeting Remus' hesitant gaze with his own as Corporate Lackey No. 1 and No. 2 rushed to the woman's side, their relaxed postures long gone. They looked less like Lackeys, now, than seasoned Aurors, looking to break some faces with their fists, and maybe a rock.

Well, fuck.

"Um...hello. I'm Harry, and this is Remus."

Harry felt like a daft idiot for speaking slowly, using exaggerated hand gestures as he introduced himself and his former professor. He felt a flush light up his face as the three just stared at him. OK. Well. That was a total failure. Harry shared another look with Remus, shrugging. Honestly, he didn't know what else he could say if they didn't understand what he was saying.

A low, drawling voice, the redhead's, brought his attention back to the three strangers looming in front of them. The man's eyes were bright and sharp, almost feral, as he bit out a jumble of words that were no more comprehensible than the brunette's, for all that it was in a different dialect of babble than before.

" _Where you two from? I ain't ever heard accents like yers before_."

Harry sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I can't understand a goddamn word. How 'bout you, Remus?"

"I...I have no sodding idea what language that is."

"Great." Harry sighed, meeting the gazes of the trio that were watching them, the two Corporate Killers (because what else could they be) staring at them suspiciously as the three whispered amongst themselves.

" _Ye think they're spies, yo?"_

" _...spies, Reno?"_

" _Ya know, from Wutai."_ The three seemed to freeze, the word "Woo-Thai" spat like a curse by the Redhead. Whatever the fuck "Woo-Thai" was, it probably wasn't good, if the suspicious glares aimed at Remus and him were any indication.

" _They don't look it, but I suppose plastic surgery could fix that easily enough."_

" _Hn."_

" _Might explain the kid. It's uncanny, yo. I mean, do you see—?!"_

" _Yeah."_

Harry ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it in frustration. His face ached from the thin, tight smile stretching his lips. Well, in for a pence, in for a pound, and all that. He cleared his throat to get their attention. Speaking even more slowly than before, and ignoring the muffled snort coming from Remus, Harry pointed deliberately at himself, and then at Remus, repeating twice, as he said their names. He didn't think the three were stupid, but didn't have any fucking clue what else to do since they obviously hadn't understood him the first damn time.

"Harry...Remus. Harry...Remus." The three seemed to get what he was trying to do and nodded, going down the line and introducing themselves. Apparently, the brunette bartender-cum-Dreaded Morning Person was called "Teefah," which was kind of odd, but not as odd as either the redhead or baldy's names, "Reeno" and "Rood," respectively.

Harry had the urge to laugh incredulously, but held himself back. First of all, exhaustion apparently made him both rude and as judgmental as fuck. Secondly, he knew better, at this point, than to assume that these names were unusual here. For all he knew, names like "Reeno" could mean "Manly," while "Harry" could mean "sweaty arse-cheek," or sommat.

The bartender turned to the redhead, her tone seeming weirdly relaxed, considering how Nos. 1 and 2 were still staring at them, " _Reno, go get Cloud for me? I want to see what he says."_

Red stared. His head cocked like a damn puppy, which was odd as hell on a man that lanky and dangerous, but a nice reprieve from the ball of barely restrained violence he'd been seconds before.

" _You think he knows somethin 'bout this?"_

The bartender shrugged. Harry wished he knew what the fuck they were saying, if only so he knew if he and Remus needed to book it in a few seconds. _"Maybe. I know he still talks to Them, sometimes, even if he tries to hide it."_

Red laughed. Harry was not reassured. He was pretty sure he could have shat himself without shame, had he not been so clenched up.

" _Hah. He's a real piece of work."_

The brunette smiled, but it was not a happy smile. More brittle. Harry shifted uncomfortably under her stare. " _He might know why the boy looks so much like...well. Can you get him, please?"_

Harry shifted, again. Whatever the hell all the staring was about, it couldn't be good. The brunette looked torn between hugging him and crying on him. The bartender met his gaze and smiled, and Harry felt something in him unravel, even as he ignored the soft echo of a giggle because now was NOT the time for imaginary girls and their imaginary juggernaut body-guards. _"I'm gonna get them some food...Rude, could you try to keep them around the bar til we can figure out where they came from?_ "

Baldy nodded as Red smirked, saluting the bartender sarcastically, " _I'm on it, yo. Rude—keep an eye on her_."

Harry flinched. He looked just like Sirius when he smirked like that, and god that HURT, because how could he forgotten his godfather was missing?

"..."

Red dashed up the stairs with frightening speed, " _Back in a mo_ '."

Harry blanched. Well, there went that contingency. Even if he and Remus managed to get a good head start, they didn't know the city, and probably couldn't outrun a man that ran that damn fast, especially since both of them were weighed down with hunger, exhaustion, and roughly a stone of dried green goo between the two of them.

The brunette, "Teefah," grabbed his hand in a surprisingly strong grip, tugging him towards the bar. He knew he looked like a frightened kid, stumbling and glancing back to make sure Remus was following, but...fuck it, he felt like a scared kid. He paled, his eyes darting up the stairs nervously as they passed it, then darted back to take in a little kitchen set in the wall nook behind the bar. It was tiny and cramped, but cheerful, with bright walls and only slightly dingy tile.

He blinked, hesitating, when the woman let go of him to go stir a pot of what smelled like an intriguing mix of Lamb Tikka, and Hot and Sour Soup. Whatever it was, he felt his empty stomach come to life with a vengeance, echoing like thunder in the awkward silence. "Teefah" froze, turning to blink at him with surprised eyes. Harry flushed, fighting back the urge to hide, as his stomach continued to sing its praises to the fragrance filling the kitchen. He rubbed the back of his neck, digging his elbow back into Remus' side as the man snickered at his embarrassment.

"Stuff it."

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, well, you were thinking it."

Harry watched as the brunette dished up large bowls of the very fragrant, thick stew. His teeth dug into his lip painfully. He was very much at risk of drooling all over himself in hunger, and didn't think he could handle any more embarrassment, at the moment, so ignored the throbbing of his lip as his teeth dug into the soft flesh. Harry's ravenous eyes followed the brunette as she set down the bowls and pulled out a cracked set of porcelain duck spoons, their deep bowls painted with delicate blue flowers. They were pretty, Harry noted, but their solid make was far less important than their ability to shovel the stew down his throat as quickly as possible.

Had he been any less hungry, he probably would have been mortified by how he was hunched over his bowl, gulping down the soup with greedy swallows, slurping and gulping, and shoveling back large mouthful after mouthful. His only consolation was that Remus looked to be devouring the soup even faster than he was, his strange eyes glowing wildly, like a starving wolf.

Harry's stomach dropped, his grip on the spoon failing. He ignored the clatter of porcelain as he stared at his ex-Professor. After everything, he supposed it wasn't too unexpected that he would forget, even momentarily, that Remus had more than Sirius and a lack of food to worry about.

True, their magic wasn't working, but did that mean that his former professor's Furry Little Problem was no longer a problem? What if whatever the green had done to the man hadn't been able to fix that? No, as much as Harry hoped Remus didn't have the Werewolf Thing to worry about, he couldn't make assumptions like that. It'd be astoundingly stupid to do so.

They'd need to figure something out, and soon, because he and a lot of innocent strangers could be in serious trouble, come the next Full Moon, if they didn't.

" _Are you finished?"_

Harry flinched at the touch to his shoulder, smiling weakly at the brunette, then turning back to his stew. Whatever ended up happening, that could wait til he filled his stomach. This may be his last meal for a while, or—if those two Killer Types' glares were to be believed—his last meal, period. He was going to enjoy every spicy, delicious, meat filled mouthful.

.. .. ..

So, this is a Thing. A thing I wrote for fun...and there's more. I'm not sure how much more, but at least a few more pre-written chapters, before I have to decide wtf this thing is, and what it might become.


	3. Chapter 3

**On Edge**

 **Disclaimer: see Chapter One (and Two)**

 **.. .. ..**

 **The Oncoming Storm Cloud: An Interlude**

 _They'll need your help, when they get here. Say you'll help?_

He stared blankly into the white, eyes drifting over the carpet of glowing flowers and brilliant green. He desperately wanted to close his eyes, linger, and just feel the brush of Her soft curls on his neck, but knew She needed an answer.

"I can't help myself, and you want me to help a couple of strangers?"

Cloud didn't need to see Her chiding look to know She was wearing it. He knew Her well enough to know She wanted nothing more than to waggle her finger in his face like she was scolding a naughty child. He, though...He never was one to hold his tongue, and He didn't now.

 _You wanted to be SOLDIER, a Hero, right? This is your chance, Spike._

"I'm not the same dumb kid I was then. Not anymore." His shoulder jolted as Zack nudged it, even as She tsked in his ear.

 _Dilly-dally, Shilly-shally. What have you got to lose?_

Cloud blinked, leaning back in his desk chair. The wood groaned under his weight as he pushed back from his desk, staring blankly at the piles of request forms, and payment invoices, and bills for the bar. He knew he was just as stubborn as accused to not accept help running his business, but...it was his business. His. He hadn't come from money, or had a wealthy relative to lend him a hand, like Tifa. He'd built what he had through hard work, and was loathe to hand over the reins to anyone else, even for something like filing taxes, and typing up invoices, and such

If it came down to it, he could always call Reeve and ask for some help. He had a good head for business, and seemed determined to lend him a hand, even if it was to throw Cait Sith his way when things got rough. It was a nice thought, that someone wanted to help just for the sake of it. Cloud knew he would probably never take the persistent blonde up on his offers of help, but it helped to know that he could.

He stared at his cold cup of milky tea, grimacing as Mako-enhanced eyes took in the disgusting, filmy layer of cream as it separated from the tea. He poked at the fragile cup with a thin finger, frowning as the milky layer shuddered and split, the slimy skin of cooling cream floating on the surface of the tea.

That...well, that killed any desire he had for tea.

He pushed the cup away from him with a frown. Cloud knew he should get back to work, but what They'd said wouldn't leave him be. He knew, despite what Aer—what She said, he probably had quite a bit to lose, if things went as horribly wrong as they usually did for him. Even so, could he live with himself if he didn't try? He was supposed to be Zack's living legacy, and Zack, well...he was all about the typical Hero schtick—compassion, strength, honor, and the willingness to help whoever needed it; could he really turn his back on that

Cloud frowned, running agitated hands through his hair. He didn't even need to think about that. He'd like to blame the mess of tangled memories his mind had become, but he couldn't. Even without Zack in his head, he couldn't turn his back on his honor, on his desire to help where he could, no matter the cost. As bad as it got at its worst, and he didn't fool himself into thinking that his Bad was anything less than Catastrophic, he wasn't the sort to give in, turn away. Now, all he had to do was wait for whatever, whoever, was coming to get here.

Honestly, it was the waiting that made him hesitate.

Gaia, waiting was the worst. Even when he knew he would be facing down almost-certain death and broken bones, he just wanted it over with. He'd used up a lifetime supply of patience growing up in sleepy, uninteresting Nibelheim, then dozing away a good three, four years of his life in that damn tank. As far as he was concerned, he could have patience enough once he was dead. Gaia knew, if They were any indication, it wasn't as if he was going anywhere once he bit it.

Cloud slumped, resting the back of his head against his chair. "Fine, you win. Just...make it quick? Please?"

There was no answer, but he'd honestly not expected there to be. Still, it would have been nice to get some acknowledgment, even if it was Zack laughing in the face of his misery.

Time seemed to slip by, though he never truly lost track of it. Just one more thing to "thank" ShinRa for. All that damn Mako made it damn near impossible to truly let his mind drift. Even though he'd learned to tune it out, the passage of time was ever present on the edge of his awareness. Minutes...1, 2, 3, 10...slipped by. Voices drifted up the stairs, but he tuned out the words. He wasn't interested enough to want to listen in.

His head tilted, listening as the sound of light, quick footsteps darted up the stairs. Probably Reno. Tifa had this weird "Thing" about running indoors, probably because she was afraid one of the kids would break their necks, trying to copy her. A knock on his office door, quickly followed by the creak of hinges. Definitely Reno.

Only he would be the infuriating sort of person who bothered knocking, but couldn't be bothered to wait for acknowledgment.

"Yo, Cloud." He tsked, turning his chair slowly to face the redhead. Friend or no, the man was just dangerous enough that he'd rather not put his back to him any more than necessary.

"Can't you knock?"

"I did."

"It doesn't count when you don't bother waiting to see if I want you barging in here."

Reno rolled his eyes, and Cloud clenched his fist around the arm of his chair. He wondered if Reno could dodge in time if he threw a pen at his head. "Tifa needs you downstairs, pronto."

"What for?"

"Some people showed up a few minutes ago. They seem alright, but don't speak a damn lick 'a Common, and the kid...well, you ain't gonna believe it til you see it."

Cloud slumped further in his chair, head falling back to stare at the ceiling. He only just refrained from scolding Them for Their dirty trick. Cloud fought back an aggravated frown as She giggled at the edge of his awareness. Well, he had asked for Them to be quick about it, he supposed.

"At least I don't have to wait."

Reno gave him a funny look, before rolling his eyes and slinking out of the room. Cloud scowled. Like he had any room to judge him about, well, anything, that clumsy, infuriating TURK. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders til his spine cracked, stretching languidly as he headed towards the kitchen. One step, two steps, three...his boots made low, solid thumps against the aging wood, kicking up a bit of dust as they met the dusty bar floor. He shuffled towards the kitchen, following the low chatter and the smell of Gongagan Stew Pot, a recipe He had passed on that He had learned to make with His mother.

Cloud lingered just outside of the open kitchen, eyes darting over Tifa nudging away Reno as he tried to sneak chunks of the stew straight from the pot with his fingers. He smiled, watching her take her stirring spoon to him, before his gaze landed on the two unfamiliar people seated awkwardly in his kitchen.

The man looked bedraggled, pale from exhaustion. His clothes were heavy with what smelled like dried Mako, as were the teenager's. Cloud frowned, confused, but put it aside for the moment. The man met his eyes, and he was startled at the sight of Mako-enhanced green swirling with blues, and toxic, firefly yellows. Dirty, blonde hair clung to the man's forehead and chin, looking matted and greasy. The man smiled, and he was surprised how young it made him look. Honestly, had he not seen him a moment ago, he'd say the man looked around His age when he died, roughly 23, maybe 25. Even so, his age was hard to place.

Cloud took in his ragged clothing, torn and frayed at the edges, though carefully patched around the knees and elbows. He was doing his best NOT to glance at the teenager after that first glimpse. His appearance was a bit too...jarring. Honestly, he wasn't surprised that Tifa had noticed, let alone Reno. Looking at the kid now, he could see why Reno assumed he wouldn't have believed it had he hadn't seen it himself.

But, still...eyes a shimmering, glowing green, like blades of grass, and pyrelights, shone out of a pale, soft, ageless face, a mop of hopelessly mussed, though now matted, black hair. Honestly, it was if he was looking at Their child. He swallowed, hard, against a rising desire to cry. They could have warned him. They should have warned him. Looking at this boy, with his head tilted in curiosity like...like a puppy's, was almost painful.

He was Zack, and he was Aeris. Her eyes, in His face, with His hair.

Gaia.

Cloud braced himself, fighting back the urge to run. He wanted to be angry at Her, so much. He'd wondered why She'd been so insistent, why She'd wanted a promise from him. Now, he knew. He was to be punished with That Face and Those Eyes, a poor thanks in return for a favor to Them.

He tensed, feeling Her at the edge of his senses, her soft hair brushing his neck.

 _I'm sorry._

Why? Whywhywhy?

He couldn't put voice to it, but he knew She heard it, nonetheless. _He needs you. They both do...him, more than the other, and you can help them._

Cloud clenched his jaw, fighting back a cry of distress, even as he nodded. He had sworn, so he would do what he promised. He felt Her linger for a moment, her head leaning back against his in gentle affection. After a moment, his eyes flitted to meet Those Eyes, and froze. They glowed, swimming with hesitant confusion, but were not locked on him. Those green, green eyes set in that dimpled face lingered just over his shoulder, where he felt her leaning into him.

How..? What...this kid. Who is this kid. Cloud watched the boy's face flicker through emotions. Recognition. Confusion. Hesitance. Denial. He wanted to turn to Her, demand She tell him who this kid was to Her, how he knew Her.

Instead of answering his unspoken demands, She merely laughed. _Take care of him?_

Cloud's eyes lingered on the boy's as he seemed to follow Her movement as she pulled away from him. "I promise."

.. .. ..

So. More of this thing. Hope it is enjoyable to read as it was to write.


	4. Chapter 4

**On Edge**

 **Disclaimer:** Still not mine. See Previous Chs for all variations on the "do not own, just playing with other people's toys" theme.

 **Note:** Yes, it has been a bit of a wait. I realize. Real Life does that, and even when I have time, inspiration likes to be a sodding tease, flirting for a while, then skipping out on me last minute, even though we have a previously planned date night. Siiiigh.

 **... ... ...**

 **Somewhere, Over the Lifestream**

Harry stared, nonplussed as the pretty woman with that damn pink ribbon leaned against the blonde behemoth lurking in the doorway. Only the slight tilt of the straw-topped head betrayed that he too could hear her, if not see her, like Harry could. Well. At least he knew that he was not, in fact, crazy.

Of course, the fact that he was actively in communication with two invisible people wasn't particularly heartening, but at least _he_ would know he wasn't crazy. Right. Harry wasn't convinced that would be good enough if Remus caught wind of his little...issue. The man would probably bundle him up and tuck him away in a tower like a princess for his own protection, guard dragon and all.

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at the blonde as his face shifted subtly in response to whatever Ribbon Girl was saying, but...

It was weird...the man seemed to almost talk to her without talking to her? It was hard to articulate exactly what he was seeing without being privy to what was going on in blondie's head, but Harry had a feeling that that was exactly what the man was doing. Speaking, without the blonde man having to say a word.

" _I promise_."

His eyes narrowed in on blondie again as he mumbled, eyes fixed on his forehead without really seeing him...what, exactly, was up with the blonde feather-head, anyway? He sure hoped it wasn't anything that'd give him a head-ache later, because the current situation was head-ache inducing enough already. His stomach grumbled at him, reminding him he'd yet to finish eating and should get on that, pronto.

Harry turned back to his stew with a sigh, slowly scooping up the last spoonfuls of the deliciously thick broth and swallowing it. God, but that was good. He had no clue what that was even called, or what some of those vegetables had been, but he wasn't going to judge, not even if they were withered mandrake feet, or sommat. Anything that good deserved a pass, regardless of ingredients.

He startled as the brunette, "Teefah," hustled over to the blonde, tugging him away from the doorway to whisper frantically at him, all the while waving her arms, and casting worried frowns in he and Remus' direction. He tried not to snerk when the brunette accidentally whacked the blonde in the face with her dripping soup spoon, but it was a near thing.

Feather Head's squawk of indignation and sputtering as he cleaned his face reminded Harry very much of one of Mrs. Weasley's chickens in a snit, and...well, with that bird hair, it was all too easy for him to imagine the behemoth as an overgrown bird. It probably wasn't as funny as he thought it was, but stress seemed to have the odd effect in inducing hilarity in him, it seemed, so he went with it. Harry coughed lightly into his fist, biting back a snicker as "Teefah" started clucking, for lack of a better word, at the fussing blonde.

He had to look away before he lost it. Harry lifted his eyes to meet Remus', and met a matching grin. Seems like he wasn't the only one holding back his laughter out of politeness. After a moment, they both had to look away, or risk bursting out into inappropriate laughter. He took a breath, two, and let his mind focus on the low, serious tones of "Teefah" and "Feather Head." That did the trick, sure enough.

Harry knee jerked, bouncing anxiously as he waited for whatever whispered debate the two were having to be over. He glanced at the two out of the corner of his eye, meeting pained, sympathetic brown of the kind brunette, and jerked his gaze away. Harry shifted, uncomfortably aware of the flush spreading up his neck and across his face. Well, that was awkward. He felt like a prat already without having been caught trying to eavesdrop.

"You think we're ever getting out of here?"

Remus looked up, startled. "What d'you mean?"

Harry was vaguely aware of the blonde in the doorway raising his hand to cut off the brunette, his expression shifting to confused concentration.

"Well, Corporate Lackeys 1 and 2 have been giving us the same look Uncle Vernon used to give me for breathing, and all this staring...well, I've been stared at a lot, and this doesn't feel like the friendly kind of staring."

"Hm. You suppose we could run for it?"

Harry shrugged, his expression dubious as it landed on the hovering redhead. "You saw how Red took to the stairs. You honestly think either of us is in any condition to outrun him?"

Remus grimaced.

" _Ah, excuse..._ excuse me. You don't have to... _fuck, but I'm rusty at this..._ you don't have to worry. We aren't going to hurt you."

Harry was sure he wasn't the only one staring, astonished, at the blonde. A quick glance at Remus, Red, and "Teefah" confirmed this. They were all looking at Feather Head like he'd sprouted wings, or another head. The man squawked...again...when "Teefah" and Red dragged him away from where he'd stepped into the kitchen and began whisper-shouting at him. Were he not so dumbfounded, Harry was sure the man's henpecked look would have amused him more than his imitation of a ruffled chicken.

" _Whatever the hell you said sure did the trick_." Red patted Feather Head a little too hard on the back, and the man shoved the redhead away in retaliation.

" _But I didn't SAY anything, really—"_

" _Cloud? What was that? What did you say?_ " Blondie gave the brunette woman an annoyed look for interrupting, which he directed at Red as he opened his mouth a moment later.

" _I didn't say anything, really. I just told them that they don't have to worry, because we weren't going to hurt them."_

" _'S that what they looked so worried about, yo?"_

" _Yeah. They seemed to think they'd need to make a quick escape,"_ the blonde looked at Red pointedly, _"can't imagine why, with the way you've been looking at them."_

The brunette frowned. " _Cloud...how? How can you understand them? Is it...is it because of Them?"_

Feather Head shook his head, his eyes distant. " _No. It's...I don't know how you were raised, Tifa, but my mother...that entire side of the family was from the Nibel mountains. Even after ShinRa took over, and everyone started speaking Common, she still spoke Nibel."_ He shrugged. " _It made it hard for her to get work, but I didn't mind translating for her, when I could. Anyway, those two,"_ Harry blinked when the blonde nodded in his and Remus' direction, briefly meeting his eyes, " _are speaking some really bizarre dialect of Nibel. It's old..."_

" _How old?"_

" _... really old. Had I not grown up hearing it, I probably wouldn't have recognized it."_

" _I didn't speak it much, which is probably why I didn't notice..." "_ Teefah" met Blondie's eyes and shared a nod.

" _Exactly."_

Red rolled his eyes, looking bored with Feather Head's rambling. " _Not that it's not impressive to see that you can manage to string together more than a sentence at a time—"_

" _Screw you."_

"— _I think we should be focusing on the fact that we can finally figure out where these two came from, cause they sure didn't walk here from Nibelheim."_

Blondie frowned, and Harry exchanged another look with Remus. The man looked seconds away from jumping in front of him to shield him with his body. Harry frowned, shaking his head, and the man settled back. He didn't want to assume they were going to be attacked, because if they jumped the gun, they were outnumbered, with no wands to back them up.

Harry sank back into his chair as the blonde entered the kitchen again and approached them. Merlin's hairy, saggy scrote, but the man was big. He'd looked big enough taking up half the door frame of the kitchen, but now...fuck. Hilariously cowlicked blonde hair aside, he was built like a powerhouse. He wasn't quite the juggernaut the perhaps-not-imaginary bloke with blue eyes and dimples was, but he was no waif. Broad shoulders, with biceps the size of Harry's sodding thighs (the giant was standing close enough to confirm this was so), and a frame that looked to be pure muscle loomed above him.

He was very, very grateful he'd stopped Remus from lunging. Feather Head looked like he could shatter Remus' bones, not to mention his, without even moving. It would be like trying to beat up a cement block.

Harry met Blondie's glowing eyes, the same dazzling shade as the hallucinatory man's. "Er, hello?"

The blonde's mouth twitched in a smile. Harry had a feeling he didn't do much smiling. "Hello," he seemed to stammer awkwardly, like someone trying to speak a foreign language for the first time in years. For all Harry knew, that could be the case, "I...I'm Cloud Strife. Your name is what, please?"

"Ah...Harry. Potter. That's Remus Lupin. He is—well, he was my Professor."

The guy, Cloud, tossed a pained look back at Red, who seemed to be egging him on with a shit-eating grin. He sighed, rubbed at his forehead, then spoke again. "Where... _fuck, this is awkward..._ where in Nibelheim do you hail from?"

"Er, nowhere? I—We're from England."

Cloud blinked at him, absolutely zero fucking recognition on his face. That...wasn't reassuring, at all. Even ignoring the fact that English seemed like some obscure as toad's balls soup language, England should have been pretty recognizable as a country, right?

Well, that is, unless his suspicions were true, and they truly were in some unknown country, planet, whatever, beyond the Veil.

Harry watched Cloud wave off the redhead, who looked like he wanted to try and pry his way into the already awkward exchange. "I have not heard of this England. Is it on the Western Continent?"

He felt Remus start next to him, and glanced over at his former professor. The man looked pale, and drawn. Well, Harry might not be a genius of Hermione's caliber, but he knew enough to know that even counting the countries and micronations hidden by magic, there was no such place as a 'Western' Continent on Earth, which meant they were truly fucked. Harry slumped back into the chair and covered his eyes. He didn't move as he heard Remus' gruff tones take over the conversation, because he was just...just too...too something, too drained, too angry to say much more.

God, but he wanted to go home. He hoped Sirius could forgive him for thinking it, but he wished he had never stepped through that Veil and dragged he and Remus into this.

"Is the boy in good health?"

Red snorted, and Cloud snarled. " _Fuck you, Reno. I haven't spoken Nibel since I was 13. This is bad enough without you butting in."_

"The boy's name is Harry, and yes, he should be fine, he's just overwhelmed, as am I. Look, I don't know what to tell you. Where we were, there was this place...an arch, with a Veil that wasn't solid, or liquid, or smoke, and lots of glowing Green beyond. We fell through it, and just woke up...here. Well, not here, per se, but in a little ruined church, a few hours' walk from here."

"'Green'?"

"Yeah, kind of...it was like the Veil, not really smoke, or liquid, or solid, but I could feel it move around me, through me. It was like fireflies, and starlight, but really green...kind of like Harry's eyes."

He tilted his head, curious, as Cloud, sounding surprised, spoke to the two listening in, " _They were in the Lifestream; That's how they got here._ "

Harry heard Red and the kind brunette startle, and peeked through his hands to take in three pale, drawn faces. "This...church. How did it look to you?"

Eyes darted across his ex-Professor's face, taking in the pretty flush and the warmth in his eyes. "It was...beautiful, and sad. It was mostly ruined, but there was grass and beautiful daylilies growing up through the cracks in the floorboards."

. . .

Harry stifled a sigh, arms buried up to his elbow in suds as he scrubbed at the bowls, and spoons, and ladles, and pans that had been spread across the small kitchen counter. Remus leaned against the scrubbed counters, absently drying the dishes. Honestly, it was the least they could do for _Tifa_ and Cloud, after the two had waved off their offer to pay back the food, insisting that it was fine.

"Do you think we should? Stay here, I mean?"

Remus shrugged. "I'm not exactly comfortable staying here for free, but we don't exactly have many options, right now."

Harry grimaced. Years of suffering the Dursleys telling him he was a burden made him terribly uncomfortable with the idea of freeloading off a pair of generous strangers.

Remus' gaze was distant as he absently dried yet another soup spoon. "Still, I offered to help Tifa man her bar, and you could continue to help in the kitchen, tidy up, til I can find some work that would let us find someplace else to stay."

His shoulders loosened, and he felt a smile flicker to life across his face. That he could definitely manage, especially since Tifa didn't seem the sort to withhold food or water from him, if he took too long to finish his chores.

"I suppose it wouldn't be too bad, til we—" Remus gave him a stern look, and Harry rolled his eyes, "you found a job, but..."

"But what, cub?"

"What are you going to do about your, erm...furry little problem?" Remus snorted, and Harry tossed him an indignant look.

"Well, I like that. I show some concern, and you laugh at me. Git."

Harry ducked, squawking, as Remus ruffled his hair with the damp, sudsy dish towel. "I wasn't laughing, Harry, really. You just...god, you reminded me of James when you said that."

"Yeah?"

Remus nodded. "Yeah, he called it my 'furry little problem,' too...well, that, or my 'time of the month,' if he thought he was being clever."

Harry smiled, briefly, nudging Remus with his shoulder, his arms still buried in hot water. "Still, though...what are you going to do?"

"That depends."

"...on?"

"On how my curse reacts, here."

Harry glanced up, startled. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, we don't really know where we are, do we? We have no wands, so have no real way of telling if magic even exists here, let alone works in the same way. I'll find someplace to tuck away, just to be sure, but...I'm not betting on it being a normal transformation."

Harry turned away, frowning down into the murky dish water. He had been trying not to consider that, the fact that his ability to harness magic may be truly and irrevocably _gone_. For so long, it was his refuge, the thing that got him away from his dull, painful life with his family. To think that his magic might be lost to him...worse, just nonexistant...here hurt him deeply. It was kind of like The Wizard of Oz, in reverse. He felt like he'd flown out of Oz, with all its color and wonder, and awoken to find himself in the dreary monochrome of Kansas...well, Edge, in this case.

"...Merlin, Sirius must be going spare in this place."

Remus frowned, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I suppose he would be. It's not the same for me, since I don't have a choice about my transformations, but Sirius...James used to joke he should just stay a dog, with how often he shifted between forms. Honestly, I think it was easier for him to deal with everything as a dog. Well, that and—" Harry was intrigued by Remus's blush.

He stared, wide-eyed, at the man's bright red face. "What?"

The man cleared his throat, eyes shifting away from Harry's as he busily dried a bowl. "Well, it used to be a joke between James, Sirius and I that he, er, the reason he stayed a dog so often was because he could get away with licking his...ahem, well, _licking_ in public."

Harry snorted, a startled chortle echoing in the kitchen. "No, really?"

"Yes. The first time James caught him at it, well let's just say he invented a new shade of Mortified Red that day."

Harry snickered, smiling at Remus' happy expression. He sighed. "We'll find him, Moony. Really. Even if I have to go looking for him on foot, we will. We can put up missing signs with my terrible drawings on them, and everything."

He didn't resist the tug when Remus pulled him into his side, hugging him. Harry buried his face briefly into the grotty sweatshirt and tried not to breathe in the acidic smell of the drying gunk. Remus ruffled his hair, sneering mockingly at the mess the flaking goo left on his hand. Harry laughed, shrugging.

Remus sighed, sounding very much like Molly Weasley, as he pulled him away from the sink and shoved him toward the door. "Go, shower. I'll finish up here then get cleaned up." He raised his hand before Harry could object, "There's no need for both of us to be miserably dirty when there's an empty shower. Go."

[end]

 **A few notes:**

 **On Old Nibel/English to Common Translation:** I see the native language of the people of Nibelheim/The Nibel Mountains as very Norse and Germanic in root, and since English has similar roots, there might be a bit of a cross-over. Since Cloud hasn't spoken it for a long, long time, his grammar might be a little rusty, hence his awkward sentence structure. I know this is a stretch, but I do have tentative plans to explain the connection between Earth/Gaia to make this explanation work.

 **Sirius and Licking:** Sirius was an enthusiastic flirt/"Ladies' Man" and could transform into an Irish Wolf Hound. He is quite literally a horn-dog, so I don't find this much of a stretch...also, it made me laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

**On Edge**

 **Note:** Twice in one day?! What is this madness?!

 **Disclaimer:**...we've done this enough for it to be understood that only the plot (whatever it may be) is mine, right? Good.

 **... ... ...**

 **Hello! Is It ME You're Looking For?**

Sirius crouched down on his haunches, ignoring the old woman who gave him the evil eye, clutching her tattered bag as she made a wide berth around his hulking, mangy form. He was much too busy with much more important things, namely, glaring at the goddamn useless stick of wood settled between his massive, black paws.

It was his wand. He was sure of it. It looked like his wand, from the shape, down to the tiny carved initials in the base. Hell, it even smelled like his wand, but it might as well have been a fancy twig, for all the good it was doing him, at the moment. He let out a huff of annoyance, then settled down again.

Slowly, he went through the steps of transforming back to human form. He cleared his mind of all distractions, making sure to focus on the change, to clearly picture himself as human, from his big feet, to his pasty legs, to his hairy arse, to the freckle right above his left nipple. Sirius held that image in his mind, pushing outward with his magic. For a moment, he thought he had it, then...nothing. If failure had a sound, in this case, it would sound like the wheeze of a deflating balloon, or a musty, dry fart.

FuckingMotherFuckerUselessPieceOfShitArseholeTwig.

Without lips, there wasn't much use swearing, unless he wanted to get shot by some nervy citizen worried about rabid, snarling dogs. Still, it took every bit of his minimal self-control to keep the string of cursing in his head. It wasn't nearly as satisfying, but at least nobody had come running with a bat, or one of those large, fuck-off swords he'd seen a few people walking around with, as casual as you like, without so much as a how do you do.

He was completely, undeniably screwed, and not in the way he'd prefer.

Dark, doleful eyes stared up at a ramshackle two storey, neon lights flickering invitingly. He may not recognize the symbols, but he knew what those blacked out windows, and neon hearts generally meant, and yet, here he was, hopelessly lost, hopelessly broke, hopelessly horny, and trapped in the body of a dog. Well, fuck.

He knew he had been a little shite in life, but he'd still assumed he wouldn't be punished too badly after he bit it. Sirius whimpered, laying his muzzle down on his dirty paws. Looks like he was wrong. He huffed, knowing that, somewhere, James was laughing his arse off, as was Lily.

Gods, Lily. No doubt she'd say it was the perfect punishment for him, the Lothario of Gryffindor House, and she was right. He was in Hell. Complete, utter Hell.

Sirius stared sadly, watching the doorman smile with white, glistening teeth at the passing crowd. " _Welcome! Even unpopular dweebs like YOU may meet your destiny here!"_

He whimpered, scooting closer to the beckoning door on his belly, his tail wagging sadly, as he watched a few men wander into the building, flush faced and excited. Life was so very, very unfair.

. . .

Sirius preened, stretching under the gently scrubbing of clever fingers. He took back every bad thing he'd ever thought in his entire life, ever about life being in anyway unfair. His tail thumped in time with his back leg as the sudsy hands scratched down his spine to work their magic at the base of his tail. Oh, Merlin's Ancient Prick, but that felt glorious.

" _Such a good boy, you are, yes~!"_

Sirius barked happily at the buxom redhead as she scrubbed at him with fingers and a pleasantly rough washcloth. He yipped as she worked her fingers through the knots in his fir, darting forward to lick at her chin as she laughed, hugging his sopping, furry body to her generous cleavage. This had to be Heaven. It just had to be, or at least as close to Heaven as he could ever get.

Now, if only he could turn back, this would be every inch his favorite scenario from boyhood wet dreams. Sirius spluttered, whimpering as the redhead dumped a bucket of cold water over his head, abruptly putting to a stop all fantasies of a Happy Ending as efficiently as a cold shower. Fuck, but he was glad he was a dog. He was sure, had he been human, his bits would have retracted completely with how cold that water was.

He huffed, briefly considering lifting his tail and farting at the woman to show her just what he thought of that bullshit, but...he'd rather not sleep on the streets, again, and cold shower aside, the brothel was a pretty ideal place to crash, really. He had his own little dog bed in the Employee's Quarters, and free rein to wander pretty much anywhere, except the rooms occupied by the girls and their guests. The food wasn't that great or that plentiful, but even so...he'd take his meager pickings and dog pillow at this little slice of paradise over a dirty alley and a bountiful load of food scrounged from the trash.

" _Risa! Gaia, where the fuck are you? You had better not be playing with that damn mutt, again!"_

Risa, the buxom redhead with the pretty, golden eyes startled, looking sheepish as she turned towards the voice calling out to her. Sirius watched as Justinian Astor, a squat little toad of a man with a hilariously bushy mustache and a penchant for tacky, purple suits, wattled in, frowning at him, then sighing as he took in the mess Sirius had made of her.

" _Risa, you have a customer in fifteen fucking minutes, and look at you...you look a wreck, and smell of wet dog and piss."_ Risa blushed, ruffling her red hair, only to wince as she caught a glimpse of the mess of greasy suds on her hands.

" _Hehehe, sorry, Boss."_ Astor the Ass huffed, waving her off with a twitch of The Mustache.

" _Tch, just get cleaned up, yeah?"_

" _Yeah, Boss!"_ Sirius chuffed wistfully as he watched the young woman bounce from the room. Oh, Merlin. To be a man...an actual, human man with money to burn.

Sirius startled as a fat, calloused hand landed on his head, ruffling the damp fur. " _Come on, mutt. I'll getcha something to eat."_

With a stretch and a shake of damp fur, Sirius trotted along after the mustached eyesore. Astor the Ass wasn't so bad, he supposed. The man knew how to eat, and he knew how to share, too.

. . .

Time, he knew, passed differently for animals than it did for people. He'd learned that quickly enough, shifting between Dog and Man during his 12 year stint at Hell on Earth. Even so, it was startling just how different the concept of time really was, now that he was stuck. Seconds and minutes didn't mean so much to him as hours, and then, their importance only stretched so far as to keeping track of when he needed to be in the kitchen to beg some scraps for breakfast and dinner.

Days seemed a little more important, but they tended to blend a bit. With no real windows to the outside world, Sirius lived in a haze of fluorescent lights in reds, pinks, and soft yellows, the endless "days" only broken up by naps, meals, and bath dates with the girls. He feared he may be loosing his grip on his humanity, and it pained him, but until he could figure a way to shift back, there was nothing he could do about it but try to keep track of how long he'd been...here, wherever here was.

Weeks and Months were easiest to track, he found, if only because things tended to work on a pretty predictable schedule in the Brothel. There were the random first-timers, of course, which threw off the pace a bit, but things tended to work on a pretty consistent schedule. Risa worked every other day, four days a week. His other favorite, a blonde named Avis, worked alternating shifts of three days on, and four days off. On top of that, the regulars helped keep things on track with their pretty predictable schedule of visits. The younger crowd tended to come on the weekends, near to midnight, while the older, married gentlemen (and ladies) came twice a week, same day, same time, around lunchtime.

Even so, Sirius was startled to realize that he'd been dead...or, not-dead, whatever the case may be, for three months, that very day. It was surprising, to say the least. He wished, more than ever, that he could either turn back, or lose his grip on his humanity, because this in between nonsense was killing him.

[End]

Short, but hopefully sweet. For all those wondering about Sirius' fate, now you all know...the Horndog of Hogwarts is literally stuck as a Horny Dog. That's what I call Karma.


	6. Chapter 6

**On Edge**

 **Disclaimer:** See Previous Chapters

 **Warnings:** I have to be honest, guys (and gals, and everyone who identifies in between)...I am super hesitant to post this chapter. Not because of quality, but because of content. I won't spoil it, but...please keep in mind, I have a reason for doing things the way I have, thus far. That said, well...*hides*

...

 **A Phoenix, Down**

Harry sniffled, tucking the blanket tightly around Remus' thin shoulders. God, but he hated seeing him like this. When the man had told him, what felt like ages ago, now, that his curse might work differently here, he'd never considered...this. This wasting, miserable sickness that seemed to fluctuate endlessly between crippling fatigue and relentless fevers that left the sickly man's weakening heart fluttering worryingly.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd sobbed like a child the day of that first Full Moon, when the man had collapsed to the ground, sweating and moaning in pain. Harry had managed, but just barely, to drag him into an empty warehouse in time for Moon Rise, but...nothing. Remus didn't change, but there was no relief in this. Instead, he'd writhed and cried, clinging to Harry as he shivered through a horrible fever, only just managing to crawl away to be sick periodically.

Harry had done his best to nurse him through the fever, for once ignoring the not-really-hallucinations whispering encouragement at him, phantom fingers brushing through his sweaty hair and petting his drooped shoulders. He hadn't had time for any cryptic, unhelpful bullshit. Remus needed him; everyone and everything else could damn well wait their turn.

It took three hours after sunrise for the fever to settle enough so that Harry could help a limping Remus back to 7th Heaven and a frantic Tifa, babbling so quickly at him that he'd had no time to stutter out an answer before Remus was plucked from his arms and carried upstairs. Though, yes, the man had slowly gotten better, it never seemed to last. His bad days seemed to far outnumber the days where he was strong enough to get up and help out at the bar, his movements painfully, achingly stiff.

The only upside, he supposed, is that he was learning how to tend bar, which, in turn, helped him pick up bits and pieces of the language as he went along. He wouldn't go so far as to say he was fluent, but he knew enough to get what was asked of him, and get his own point across. Speaking of which...Harry checked the tiny bedside clock that Tifa had gifted him...he had three hours to do a few rounds of the nearest neighborhoods, put up a few signs for Sirius, and then get back in time to help open the bar for the evening rush.

Harry stared at the stack of hand-drawn Missing fliers that he'd put together, and frowned. As much as wanted to do the rounds, try and find Sirius, he didn't think he should leave Remus like this. He looked so tired, so sick—the worst he'd ever looked, honestly—and he felt like the biggest, most selfish arse for abandoning him. He sighed, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. It wouldn't hurt to put off the search for another day, even if he really, really wanted to find Sirius, if only so he didn't feel so fucking alone, watching his surrogate father wither away in front of him.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

He startled, only just managing to keep his seat on the edge of the bed. "Damn it, Remus. You startled me...how are you? You need anything?"

Remus patted his hands, smiling vaguely, his eyes glassy with lingering fever. "No, no. I'm fine, just...I thought you were going out before your shift."

Harry shrugged, embarrassed. "I was, but...I hate leaving you like this, and it's been so long, and I don't even know if he's out there, or alive, but you're here, and..!"

A hot, sweaty palm pressed against his lips, cutting off his frantic ramble mid-sentence. "Breathe, kiddo. It's alright if you want to go, though I'd be happy to have you for company, too. Your choice."

A thin, tired smile stretched his lips, and Harry nodded, but made no move to stand. Instead, he slowly curled up next to Remus, his forehead pressed against the blanket covering the man's shoulders. Remus laughed tiredly, leaning his sweaty forehead against the crown of his head.

This was unbearable. He knew he shouldn't complain, as it was Remus who was sick, but this was truly unbearable. Seeing Remus so sick, so patiently dealing with his childish desire to find Sirius, as if finding him would magically make everything better. Life wasn't fair like that. He should know this by now. Even so, he'd still wished, he'd wished _so_ _hard_ , that he'd find a magical solution, a fix that would make everything go back to normal.

The clatter of dishes jolted Harry out of his daze. He leaned over Remus' prone form to stare at the clock, and sighed. He needed to get downstairs before the rush started. With a quick hug to Remus' midsection, Harry rolled out of bed and sprung to his feet, tripping over the thick, woven rug lying between Remus' bed and his. He glared at the tacky thing and kicked at it. Honestly, he was sure that thing was out to get him.

" _Harry! Are you coming_?"

"Yes! _A moment, please!_ "

He paused at the door, turning to look back at Remus, who was watching him through heavy eyes. His stomach wobbled, his heart clenching in absolute fear. In a moment, he was across the room, by Remus side. He hugged the man once more, clinging tightly, pressing a kiss to the man's forehead. His hands clenched around sweat dampened pajamas, trembling, as he felt the rattling of breath, still so very shallow and labored, in the thin chest.

"Get some rest, OK? I love you."

Tired eyes sparkled at him, and a weak hand reached up to brush the hair away from his face. "Love you too, kiddo," he smiled at him, tiredly, "now go on, before Tifa comes to fetch you."

Harry blinked tears from his eyes, unexpectedly afraid to leave Remus' side, but rose slowly to his feet. He let his gaze linger on the man who was so much to him, his uncle, his brother, his father. Remus' glassy eyes seemed to read all his hesitation and strange fear in his face.

"Go on. I'll be here when you get back."

. . .

The bar seemed almost more packed than usual for a week night, but then it always was a bit packed on pay days. Harry sighed, forcing a smile on his face, pushing back the lingering desire to run away and hole himself up with Remus. A quick glance at the harried Tifa steeled his resolve, and he let himself fall into a daze of drink orders—beer, and Blue Hawaiis, and Corel Vintage, and AVALANCHE specials—one, after the other, after the other.

He felt bruised and exhausted, his arms and wrists sore where grabby customers had grasped and pulled at him, trying to get his attention to order, or trying to pay out their tab, or trying to get something other than drinks from him, willing or no. Tifa, of course, dealt with the grabby ones with a stern eye (and her fist, on occasion), though the latter sort she left to the lurking form of Rude, who would quietly escort them out the door, his aura of barely restrained violence clearing a path from the bar to the door for the quiet TURK.

" _There's some food in the fridge for Remus; take ten to bring it up to him, I can manage for a few without you."_

It took a moment to decipher Tifa's words, with his limited knowledge of the language, and the murmuring of the customers, but Harry did, rewarding her with his "sweetheart smile," as she teasingly called it. He, of course, didn't think there was anything particularly sweet about it, but knew enough about Tifa at this point to realize that she was kind of odd, in the best possible way.

Harry dashed around the bar towards the kitchen, pulling out the covered sandwich and jug of Banora White Cider. He dug through the cupboards for a plate and a cup, carefully setting it on the tray as he took the stairwell two steps at a time, a happy smile twitching at his lips. Honestly, as silly as it sounded, he'd been looking forward to this all night. He knew, logically, a few hours away from Remus wouldn't hurt him, but with how sick he'd been, a few hours felt like days.

He shifted the bed tray to knock on the door quietly, opening it a moment later when there was no response. Poor Remus was probably asleep, again. He'd been sleeping so much, wearing himself down to nothing, fighting off the latest stubborn fever. Honestly, if Remus weren't so stubborn, he'd have taken him down to the clinic weeks ago. Maybe, if was feeling better later, he could finally convince him to go, if only to try and get him some medicine that would actually work. At least they had money to pay for it, now.

"Remus? You hungry?" Harry kept his voice to a low murmur, knowing Remus' probably already had a headache from the sound drifting up from the bar. Wood, unfortunately, wasn't the best for sound insulation, and the professor's head had to be pounding.

Remus didn't say anything, and Harry frowned. Huh. Probably deep asleep, again. Slowly, Harry set down the tray on his bed, trying his best to be quiet as he crept over to Remus' bed, tugging on blankets to tuck the man in. Damn, but his professor was freezing. He shuffled over to the closet, digging out the only spare afghan, hurrying over to the bed to tuck him in. Harry slowly draped the blanket over the man, making sure to cover him as much as he could to warm him up.

His knuckles brushed across the cool skin of Remus' neck, and froze. He was so very still, and so very cold. Harry's breath hitched, and he pressed trembling fingers to that cold neck. Nothing. His hands felt clumsy, awkward, as he fumbled around the side of his neck, pressing harder, searching out a pulse point. Nothing, and Remus did not wake.

"R-Remus? Remus?"

His lips trembled, a panicked sob catching in his chest. Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod. No. No no no no nonononono. "Remus, come on. Wake up, please? Tifa made you some food, see? You gotta wake up and eat so you can get better."

Nothing. Remus was still very, very cold and he did not wake. Even when Harry shook his shoulders, even when hot tears spilled down his face to splash across Remus' pale lips. He didn't move. Harry knew why he wouldn't move, but he didn't want to think about it, couldn't even consider the possibility that it was true. Remus said he'd be here when he came back, he couldn't be dead.

Remus couldn't be dead. He couldn't have left Harry all alone.

Trembling fingers lifted from a cold neck, drifting towards cold lips. No breath tickled across his hands, not from his mouth, not from his nose. Harry collapsed forward, his last thread of fragile hope snapping. His eyes swam, his racing pulse drowning out the sounds drifting up from the bar, and a deep, soul-wrenching wail burst from it, echoing in the room, in his head. He couldn't tell if he was screaming only in his head, or out loud, but the grief poured from him violently.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't leave me alone, pleasepleasplease." Harry's head swam, the words coming from him in a sobbing, gasping rush of tears.

Feet pounded up the stairs, the sound of his name echoing up the stairwell, but Harry couldn't hear it, not really. It was white noise drowned out by the tearing, wrenching, numbing agony of his loss.

Warm, broad hands gently tugged him away from Remus, and he lashed out blindly, snarling, eyes streaming, and teeth bared in raw, furious grief. His fist hit a hard torso, bruising his knuckles, not even wrinkling the thick, dark wool of the suit jacket. Harry glanced up, eyes blurred with tears, taking in the solid form of Rude, his mouth turned down and brow furrowed sadly. His heart clenched, and he looked away, his gaze falling to land on Remus chest, so very still under the layers of blankets.

His strength left him, and he didn't protest or scream or cry out as he was gently tugged away, the quiet man, all broad shoulders and strong arms, effortlessly lifting him into his arms. Harry buried his face against the man's neck, his wet eyes pressed against warm skin, his knuckles white as they fisted into the wool of the suit jacket. He felt...empty. Lost. Nothing seemed to matter now that Remus was gone. There was no reason to protest as Rude carried him to the bathroom, setting him down on the toilet to fill the tub with hot water.

He was sure, any other time, that he would have been mortified stripping in front of Rude, but it didn't matter anymore. Why should it? Who cared, when Remus was gone? He stepped docilely into the tub, shifting when he was prompted, letting Rude gently wash his hair, then slowly wash the tears from his face with a damp wash cloth. He sat, not seeing, not really feeling anything, not even the wash rag as Rude gently washed his hands, one finger at a time, then his arms, his back, his torso. The man didn't ask to wash him below the waist, but Harry didn't care. He wasn't sure he would have had it in him to think to protest, even if Rude had.

" _Close your eyes._ "

Harry didn't argue, letting the man rinse his hair, his face, his body of suds, before pulling him to his feet and slowly drying him, bundling him up in a towel before lifting him. Harry buried his face back into that warm neck, letting himself be carried to a different room—Cloud's room, he thought. He was sure, had it been any other time, he would have been more interested in the mess of papers on the desk, or the unmade bed, but he no longer cared. Caring hurt.

Harry watched with blank, dead eyes as Rude rummaged through Cloud's closet, frowning as he pulled shirt, after jacket, after sweater out of the closet. Finally, he nodded, pulling out an enormous black sweater, which looked vaguely like something Tifa would give the man. It was too big on him, but Harry wasn't bothered. Being bothered would have meant he felt something, and feeling anything right now hurt.

Trembling fingers stroked absently at the hem of the giant sweater, which hung practically to his knees. Rude stared, then disappeared for a few moments, reappearing with a pair of pants, the sleep trousers Tifa had scrounged up for him, and a tumbler full of the bar's best Nibel Prime, which Re—which he had been told was as close to Rye Whiskey as you could get, here.

Harry let Rude pull him to his feet, those large hands holding on to the tumbler til he had struggled into his pants. His hands shook around the glass, so Harry let Rude take it, sitting on the edge of the bed docilely as the large, quiet man fed it to him, sip at a time. He grimaced. God, it tasted like cauldron scum and burned peat. Harry saw Rude's lips twitch, and tried—failing horribly—to give the man a smile.

" _Thank you._ " His throat felt like he'd swallowed glass and granite, and took another sip to soothe the pain.

" _Try not to talk. Your throat will need some time to recover."_

Harry nodded. It wouldn't be that hard a chore. He didn't really feel like talking right now. Honestly, he wasn't sure he'd ever feel like talking, ever again. Why bother, when even thinking hurt? He was grateful for the quiet presence of Rude, and the powerful Nibel Prime. He felt his body flush with the warmth of the alcohol, not even fighting it when he sagged against Rude, his head leaning against his sturdy shoulder.

His eyes drooped with exhaustion, but he didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to know what he'd see if he did.

 _It's alright, Harry...you can rest, now. It's all going to be OK._

He blinked, his eyes swimming as he tried to focus, but the exhaustion weighed him down. A feather-soft brush against his forehead, and...warm. It felt so warm, like a hug from somebody who loved him. His breath hitched in his chest, his voice leaving him an exhausted whisper as the warmth slowly faded away.

"...Remus..."

[End]

Now, I'm sure that a few of you want to kill me. You are justified in this. Keep in mind, I am currently posting my pre-written chapters of a story that I originally wrote for myself. So, this wasn't done to hurt you...honestly, it kind of just happened. If it makes you feel better, I totally ugly-cried while writing it...like, sobs, and snot, and all.


	7. Chapter 7

**On Edge**

 **Disclaimer:** Never mine, no matter how much I wish they both were, so I could pay my bills. *sobs*

 **Note:** A bit of a maudlin send-off for our dearly-departed, but I thought it appropriate. Still a lot of questions to answer, but hopefully this gives some closure about THIS issue. Also, I felt kind of bad about leaving you with a sad chapter, so I am posting another, despite the fact that I am getting dangerously close to running out of my prewritten chapters.

...

 **Where (the F #k) Do We Go From Here?**

Tifa didn't think she'd ever seen her bar empty as quickly as it had when that terrible, heart-breaking wail had came echoing down the stairs, momentarily silencing the manic hubbub of the bar. A few of the more sober regulars had tried peering up the stairs, straining to see what they could from behind the bar, whispering and debating over whether they'd be the one to offer to check it out. She hadn't paid it much mind, save to absently block a few of the nosier customers from following Rude in his sprint up the stairs.

The terrible, broken sobbing cut through the happy, weekend mania, til—one by one—the regulars paid up their tabs, sliding a few extra gil across the counter for "the kid." The social drinkers, mood effectively killed by the overwhelming air of mourning, quietly, quickly paid their dues, dropping a few gil more than they could afford for tips. Tifa was grateful, but not surprised. Most of these people had been around for Meteor and the fall-out, and knew intimately the sound of anguish, and of loss.

Those too drunk to know what was going on were "strongly encouraged" to pay up by Reno, who had no compunction about digging through pockets and wallets, and tossing large handfuls of gil on the counter, if the customer was too slow, too drunk, or just plain reluctant to pay and leave. The stragglers soon got the idea that they could hand over their money, or Reno could do it for them, but as the latter included a generous amount of manhandling and cost them quite a bit more gil than their tab was worth, most paid quickly and left. Those stubborn few not willing to go so easily got a face-full of his Electro-Mag Rod and a good kick in the ass, which Tifa pretended not to see.

Not ten minutes after the first wail had echoed down the stairs, the bar was empty. Tifa quickly stacked the cups and wiped down the counter, as Reno locked the door.

"Do you think Rude needs any help with him?"

Reno frowned, staring up the stairwell. "Nah, he's cool. He's a quiet guy, Rude, but he's good with kids. Better'n me, anyway."

Tifa smiled thinly and nodded. "Do you...do you think he...that Remus..?"

A thin hand brushed through bright red locks. "Yeah, think so."

Tifa turned her back to Reno, busying herself with the bar so that he couldn't see the tears swimming in her eyes. Gaia, that poor kid. He had worked so hard to help Remus get well, all the while working himself to the bone, and staying out at all hours, looking for his missing godfather. To have something so...so...terrible happen to him seemed uncommonly cruel.

"Tifa, hey."

She wiped her eyes, quietly clearing her throat before turning back to the redhead. It was strange seeing him so solemn, but she supposed he must be serious sometimes. He didn't get to be second in command to the likes of Tseng by being a goof, or so she hoped. "Yeah?"

"We'll take care of it. We won't let him turn into another Cloud. Gaia knows it's the last thing we need."

She snorted, shaking her head at the wry, lazy smirk Reno shot her. "Cloud is Cloud."

"Yeah, that's my point."

Tifa glanced at the clock. An hour. It had been an hour, and...nothing. The crying had stopped a while back, but still, no Rude. She glanced at Reno, slumped over the bar, staring blankly at who knows what. Honestly, she'd probably rather not know what sort of things TURKS thought about. After a moment, she felt her gaze drifting back towards the stairs.

"Ya know...if you wanna go check on the kid, you can. Don't let me stop ya."

Tifa flushed, but didn't turn her gaze from the stairs. Reno scoffed, pushing himself to his feet and headed straight for the stairs. "What..?"

"Well, if you ain't goin', I am."

She dropped her damp rag, falling into step with Reno as he strolled up the stairs, step by slow step. At the foot of the stairs, he stared around the hall, his expression indolent. "Yo."

"Hey." Rude's low, husky voice drifted out of Cloud's room, and Tifa watched him slink down the hall, glancing casually into the rooms as he passed. Had she not been watching him, she probably wouldn't have seen him freeze for a fraction of a second before casually shutting the door. Tifa swallowed, hard. That was the room Remus and Harry had been sleeping in. Gaia, he was still in there. Her breathing hitched.

"We'll handle that later. For now, focus on the kid, yeah?"

Tifa stared at the back of Reno's head. She nodded. He continued on down the hall without a word, slipping into Cloud's shared bedroom and office. She frowned, briefly, at the mess of papers and stacked bills on the desk before her eyes landed on Harry, looking so small in the sweater she'd bought Cloud last winter.

He was curled up like a little kid, or a cat, sleeping against Rude's shoulder. For all that there was a miserable teenager clinging to his arm, his face nuzzled into his shoulder, Rude looked relatively unbothered, his posture as rigid as usual, even seated on the edge of the bed. Only the slightly lower-than-usual downward tilt to his eyebrows betrayed his distress.

She wanted to chide herself for being caught up in how cute the sight was, especially the not-obvious-to-anyone-else worry on Rude's face. Still, she was relieved to know that Rude would be keeping an eye on Harry, when she or Cloud couldn't.

"Need some help with the squirt?"

"No, he's fine. Leave him be."

Reno shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Hey."

Tifa looked up, from where her glazed eyes had been staring, unseeing, at the wall. "Yeah?"

"Call Cloud. He should be here."

Her breath hitched, but she fought back the tears stubbornly. "Yeah, OK. What about Remus? We can't leave him in there."

"Yeah, I know. I'll see if Boss can lend a hand."

Tifa nodded absently, her eyes drifting to settle on Harry's pale, sleeping face. Gaia, even now, looking like his world had fallen apart, the resemblance was uncanny. He looked so much like that goofy SOLDIER she'd met all those years ago in Nibelheim, and she knew, were the boy to open his eyes, they'd be Her eyes. Cloud was going to hate her for making him face the kid, looking so wrecked, but there was nothing else to be done. He needed to know.

. . .

Reno shifted under the Boss-man's assessing stare. He'd never say it to the man's face, but he had a stare that could unnerve an Acrophies with a toothache. Tseng's gaze drifted back down to the blanket clad man, who was undeniably dead, but still...here. He had not, for some reason, been taken by the Lifestream, which was odd. Unaccountably odd. Enough so that Reno kind of regretted calling in Tseng for help, in the first place, especially since he hadn't actually gotten around to telling him about either Remus or the kid, Harry.

"I assume you have a good excuse for not telling me about this."

Reno shrugged, not meeting Tseng's assessing stare. "Yeah, well...you had the Cetra girl, and I had this guy."

The man's expression didn't change, but one thin eyebrow lifted. "Not like that, just..."

Tseng sighed, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, but you will give me a verbal report, later, if you expect me to keep this from the President."

"Yeah, sure."

Reno sighed, staring down at the body. Man, but it was weird staring down at an actual body. He had had a hand in creating more than one corpse in his time, but very few stuck around for more than a half-hour, tops, before the Lifestream took them. This guy was all the more real because he hadn't been taken. He was just...here, and it was like being slapped in the face with Death. He didn't feel weepy or nothin, but Reno wasn't sure he liked it, nonetheless.

Carefully, Reno tucked the blankets around the guy, getting a good grip on the top sheet, waiting for Tseng to get a hold before they lifted. Fuck, but it was like trying to lift a block of concrete...or Cloud's fat ass, when he was out cold. Tseng, grimacing under the weight of the body, gave him a dark stare, and he felt a flush spread up his neck.

"Yeah, so, I owe ya. I get it. Let's just handle this first."

Tseng grunted, sounding more like Rude than his normally eloquent self. Slowly, they maneuvered out of the room, staring blankly at the narrow stairwell, before awkwardly shifting their hold on the sheets, carefully descending the stairs a step at a time.

"Hey. Need any help?"

Reno could have sobbed in relief. Cloud, his face set in his default brooding expression, was staring sadly down at the corpse. He didn't seem to surprised to see an actual body, but then again, he had conversations with a dead Flower Girl and SOLDIER, so it probably didn't rank too highly on the Bizarre Meter.

"As much as I can get, pal."

Cloud snorted, carefully squeezing up next to him and taking the man into his arms easily, before turning and carrying him downstairs. Reno felt like glaring at his back, but didn't want the pissy blonde to turn around and drop the man back in his lap. The blonde, admittedly, could be a spiteful little shit like that.

"Where we taking him?"

"The church."

Reno relished the deer in the headlights look the blonde gave him, but bit back his smile. "It was the kid's idea."

"He's awake?"

"Yeah. For a while, now. He said he'd be at the church, and that we should take Remus' body there, when we could."

"You let him go alone?" Reno raised his hands in surrender at the black look on the blonde's face.

"Nah. Rude took him."

Cloud nodded, frowning. "Tseng."

The Boss-man looked up from where he'd been brushing down his suit, straightening his tie. "How can I help you, Mr. Strife?"

"You think we can borrow a truck? I can't take him like this on Fenrir."

The man nodded, his face blank. "Of course."

Cloud scoffed. "I'll owe you one, later. I know."

Reno didn't want to take credit for the blonde's cynicism when it came to the TURKS, but he couldn't deny that he probably had a great deal to do with it. He looked down at his clothes and grimaced. The wrinkles he could have handled, but he'd been unaware how much dead bodies...leaked. He waved off Tseng and Cloud, heading up towards the bathroom. He'd rather not borrow Cloud's clothes, but the blonde would just have to deal with it til he thoroughly washed his suit, because...fuckin' gross, yo.

. . .

Harry sat limply in the crumbling pews, staring blankly at the carpet of grass and daylilies, glowing brilliantly in the dusty sunlight filtering in through the roof. He paid no mind to the warmth of Rude, quiet and solid at his side, just calmly accepted his presence. All there was to do now was...wait. Wait for them to bring him, here. He had no idea why here, of all places, but he didn't have it in him to question her about it.

 _Things will be OK. You'll see._

Harry didn't scoff, but it was a near thing. He had no idea how anything could be OK, now or ever again, but wanted desperately to trust her. He needed to be OK again, as unlikely as the possibility seemed right now. It felt too terrible to think that he'd never be OK, again. Harry wasn't sure he could bear that.

Soft hair tickled his neck as the girl sat by his side, leaning a cheek against his forehead. It was strange, but nice. He knew he should find it weird that the not-ghost of a stranger seemed to like him so much, but he was just grateful for the comfort.

 _You'll come to understand in time._

Understand? What. Harry shook his head lightly, ignoring the curious look Rude shot him. He had no clue what he was supposed to understand. Death? Why a pair of strange not-ghosts seemed to like hanging around so much? There was too much he didn't understand for him to understand what he was supposed to 'understand in time.' God, but it was headache inducing just thinking about it.

She giggled softly in his ear. _Yes, that...and more._

Harry felt an eye-roll coming on. That was about as helpful as...as...something completely unhelpful. He winced. God, but his brain was failing him. It was to be expected, of course, but still embarrassing, especially since Pink Bow girl, and god wasn't that lame of him, seemed to know what he was thinking.

 _Ah, that's right! You still don't know my name—I'm Aeris, but you can call me Flower Girl, if you like._

Ah. OK, then. Aeris. His eyes narrowed on the flowers dancing lazily in the sunlight. He supposed this must be her place, then, if she was calling herself Flower Girl. Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, the Brick Shit-house take a seat next to Aeris.

She giggled again as the dark haired, dimpled man squawked. _Hey!_

 _You can call him Zack. I think the...other thing...might hurt his feelings._

 _Yeah. Thanks a lot, kid._

Harry shrugged lightly, remembering last minute that he wasn't alone, and using it as an excuse to lean into Rude's arm. The man didn't even twitch, so Harry settled into the warmth next to him.

" _You think they'll be here soon?_ " Harry felt Rude's arm move as he checked his watch.

" _Should be._ "

"Hm."

Harry felt the weight of the man's stare on his head, but didn't turn to meet the look. " _You know what you're doing?_ "

He hesitated. Rude seemed to be the kind, like Mrs. Weasley, who could smell a lie. Harry wouldn't have lied to the woman out of love and respect. While he may not love Rude, he sure as hell respected the man, both how kind he'd been, and how brutal he knew he could be. He sighed as Aeris pet his head.

 _It's OK. Tell him._

Harry didn't want to doubt Aeris, but...well. How exactly did one explain to a near stranger that one was seeing the not-ghost of two people he'd never even met before, and that said ghosts were telling him to do things, go places? The nudge from the incorporeal brunette jarred another sigh from him. Fine, then.

" _I don't, no, but Aeris said this was where I needed to bring him_."

Had he not been plastered to Rude's side, he probably wouldn't have felt the slight twitch of the man freezing, before he slowly, deliberately relaxed back into his normal, stiff posture. " _I see._ "

Harry let out a breath, glad for the fact that the man wasn't calling him crazy to his face. His eyes drifted closed, and he breathed in the silence, the warmth of the sunlight, and the smell of the fresh grass and the flowers. Nothing save the sound of the breeze, and the slow, low breathing of Rude broke the silence. He could sit here forever, drifting in the silence and stillness of the church. Then, the sound of a low, rumbling motor and tires on broken gravel and dirt.

" _They're here._ "

. . .

Later, Reno, and Tseng, and Rude, and Cloud, and Tifa, and even Harry, born of magic, though he was, would say that they had never seen anything so strange or so beautiful. Cloud, his steps careful and reverent, maneuvered through the lush green carpet, kneeling gently to lay the body of Remus amongst the flowers.

Remus' body slumped into the carpet of glowing green, the air growing heavy, charged as Cloud stepped back, away from the flowers. Slowly, glittering green, and firefly yellow, and Arctic blue pyrelights began to emerge from Remus' body. Beads of of glittering lights decorated his skin like pearls, slowly drifting toward the sky in a beautiful, twirling dance with the pyre lights.

Tears ran in rivers down Harry's face, dripping from his chin. "I love you."

As if those words were what the Lifestream was waiting for, the lazy dance became a frenzied, glorious blizzard of swirling pyre lights, beads of color, and a strange, swirling mist of gold that was magic, in its purest form. Time stilled, til the very air seemed to exhale.

Then, the lights and the color were gone. Remus was gone. All that was left was a collapsed pile of blankets.

[end]

...and, that's all, folks! Remus has returned to the Lifestream. Of course, not that that means much, considering...but, yeah. He's gone, and I'm still sorry I made some of you cry, but it is what it is.


End file.
